


Son Of A Thousand Bastards

by cycnus39



Category: Il buono il brutto il cattivo | The Good The Bad and The Ugly (1966)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-30
Updated: 2013-05-30
Packaged: 2017-12-13 11:44:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/823935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cycnus39/pseuds/cycnus39
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It wasn’t that he didn’t like Blondie. He liked Blondie fine. He liked Blondie on his knees. He liked Blondie beaten. He liked Blondie bleeding. Yeah, bleeding was good. A nice bloody Blondie. Who wouldn’t like that?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Son Of A Thousand Bastards

It wasn’t that he didn’t like Blondie. He liked Blondie fine. He liked Blondie on his knees. He liked Blondie beaten. He liked Blondie bleeding. Yeah, bleeding was good. A nice bloody Blondie. Who wouldn’t like that?

“Town,” Blondie murmured over the sound of their horses’ hooves in the sand and he looked up, saw the vague silhouette of a few battered wooden buildings huddled together on the horizon.

“Pah! Call that a town?” he returned sourly.

Blondie shrugged one shoulder slightly before admitting, “One horse.”

“One horse? Yeah,” he growled as their destination drew closer. “They had one horse -- then they ate it!”

“They’ll have whisky and maybe a tub,” Blondie insisted.

“Watered down whisky and a horse trough,” he grumped back.

Blondie gave him a narrowed look then shifted his cigar to the other side of his mouth before asking, “Since when did you get so particular?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he began in a singsong manner and then leaned over in his saddle to shout in Blondie’s face, “Maybe it’s got something to do with the cactus in my ass!” 

Blondie just shifted his cigar to the other side of his mouth. “Didn’t you get all the spines out?”

“I don’t know. I think so.” He moved uncomfortably on his saddle. “It still hurts like Hell. If you were half a friend, you’d look at it for me.”

Blondie shook his head and smiled ever so slightly. “Never said I was your friend.”

“Half a human being, then, instead of the pig walking around on two legs that you are!”

Blondie paid no attention to the insult.

Blondie never did.

They rode on into the town in silence.

As soon as he spotted the saloon, he gigged his horse over to it. He had dismounted and had started walking across the boardwalk towards the saloon’s batwing doors when he realised Blondie wasn’t with him.

“Hey!” he shouted to where Blondie was still riding his horse up the street. “Hey, Blondie! The whisky’s here!”

Blondie didn’t even look back at him, just carried on riding as if he didn’t exist.

“Idiot,” he snarled, spat on the worn wood beneath him and then turned and walked into the saloon.

A bottle of whisky later, both his thirst and his pain had abated and he bought another bottle from the blind barman then stole half the money back before heading off to find Blondie.

Judging from where Blondie’s horse was hitched, Blondie had actually found a bathhouse. With real tubs. Curious, he wandered in and found an old woman sitting staring at an empty fireplace.

“Hey, old woman,” he addressed her and then lightly kicked the nearest leg of her chair. “Hey, my friend’s having a bath here, right?”

The old woman looked up at him. “You want a bath, mister?”

“Yeah, yeah, why not. You got the powder that makes the bubbles?”

The old woman just blinked at him.

“Never mind.” He waved her off and she shuffled off into the room behind. Following her, he found Blondie lying in a copper tub with his eyes closed, peacefully smoking his cigar.

Now that his ass didn’t hurt so bad, he had to admit Blondie didn’t just look good on his knees, beaten and bloody. No, Blondie looked good wet and naked too.

“Hey, you found your bath!” he greeted Blondie while walking up to the nearest side of the tub. “It’s a good one too,” he went on, crouching down by the tub and patting its metal rim.

Blondie didn’t react, didn’t even open his eyes. 

“Just gonna fetch more water,” the old woman called while shuffling down the corridor.

He watched her struggle with the door then wander outside. Figuring that she’d be gone for a while, he turned his attention back to Blondie.

“You like your bath, huh, Blondie?” he said, stroking the metal rim. “Yeah, you like it fine.” He took a long pull of the whisky bottle and then wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “Hot enough, is it?” he asked dipping the tips of his fingers into the water above Blondie’s hip.

Blondie opened his eyes to watch him but didn’t say a word.

“Yeah, that’s good and hot,” he went on, stroking the water. “Good and hot,” he repeated, stirring the water with a bit more force so Blondie’s cock moved gently in the warm currents he was creating. 

After a few more seconds, Blondie’s cock began to get hard and he dipped his whole hand under the water, began swirling the water around Blondie’s cock. “You like that?” he asked when Blondie just sat watching him. “It’s a good bath?”

Blondie still didn’t say anything, still didn’t stop him.

He took another long drink of whiskey, swirled his hand nearer to Blondie’s hardening cock. “I tell you what’ll make your bath even better. Better than good. Much better.” He reached down, took a gentle hold of Blondie’s cock. When Blondie didn’t even flick an eyelid, he took a stronger hold, began stroking Blondie’s cock to full hardness.

“You like that?” he asked when Blondie’s eyes closed slightly. “That’s good? Yeah, that’s good. You like this. You want it a bit more? You want it better?” he asked, began stroking Blondie’s cock hard and fast, splashing himself with the water until Blondie finally gasped and tensed and spilled his seed into the bath. 

“There, see? I give you good bath,” he said, handing Blondie the bottle of whisky.

Blondie took a deep drink and then handed the bottle back, climbed out of the tub.

“Yeah, that old woman will be gone for years,” he said as Blondie walked over to his clothes and started to dress. “I’ll just use your tub and you can give me a good bath like I did for you.”

Blondie just continued to dress in silence so he stood up, started taking his own clothes off.

He was almost naked, just struggling with his left boot, when Blondie finished dressing, put his hat on and started walking out the room.

“Hey! Where you going?” he shouted, but Blondie kept walking. “HEY! YOU CAN’T LEAVE YET!” he bellowed as Blondie disappeared out the doorway. “BLONDIE!”

Silence.

Then, above the sound of his hammering heart, he heard Blondie’s boot heels tap smugly against the wood of the corridor then out onto the boardwalk. 

“YOU BASTARD SON OF A WHORE!” he screamed, finally wrested his boot from his left foot and threw it into the bath. “I’LL KILL YOU! DO YOU HEAR ME? I’LL KILL YOU, YOU PIG! YOU BASTARD SON OF A THOUSAND BASTARDS!”

 

 

End


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